Podcasts about deftly

Sarah Damoff shares how The Bright Years evolved from an epistolary draft into a powerful multi-POV family saga exploring addiction across generations.Every so often, a debut novel arrives so confident and assured it's hard to believe it's the author's first. Sarah Damoff's The Bright Years is one of those rare books. Deeply informed by her work as a social worker, Sarah offers readers an empathetic and profoundly immersive exploration of addiction and its reverberations across generations. Deftly weaving their family's personal history with political and cultural moments creates a layered portrait of a family navigating love and loss through the generations.In this intimate and insightful conversation, Sarah and I discuss:Her savvy and scrappy journey to landing a book deal with Simon & SchusterHow The Bright Years began as an epistolary novel and evolved into a multi-POV sagaThe challenge of writing addiction and redemption with compassionHow setting the story across decades helped her explore shifting perspectives and memory

Welcome to Episode 60! In this very special recording we celebrate ten years of 76 Small Rooms, in a live audience recording at Objectspace Gallery in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland. Deftly compered by Jeremy, the team were joined by a brilliant panel made up of Objectspace director Kim Paton; Matakohe Architecture + Urbanism's Jade Kake; and our very first guest back in 2015 - architect and founder of RTA Studio Rich Naish. We discussed two questions: how has design in Aotearoa New Zealand changed in the last decade? And what changes can we hope for in the decade ahead? Huge thanks and aroha to Objectspace for hosting this kōrero, and their ongoing support of design and creativity in Aotearoa. Special thanks to those who attended this celebration, and our gratitude to Te Aihe Butler, who recorded and mixed this live episode. Theme Music: The Cosmic Wheels Cover photo: Cameron Law

REMINDING THAT RED CHINA IS RECKLESS AND SADISTIC:   1/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1965 PRC LIU MAO

REMINDING THAT RED CHINA IS RECKLESS AND SADISTIC:   2/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 PRC MAO

REMINDING THAT RED CHINA IS RECKLESS AND SADISTIC:   3/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 PRC RED GUARDS

REMINDING THAT RED CHINA IS RECKLESS AND SADISTIC:   4/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 PRC TIBET

REMINDING THAT RED CHINA IS RECKLESS AND SADISTIC:   5/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1967 PRC MAY DAY

REMINDING THAT RED CHINA IS RECKLESS AND SADISTIC:   6/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1968 PRC LIN MAO

REMINDING THAT RED CHINA IS RECKLESS AND SADISTIC:   7/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1968 PRC

Counselors and Affirmation.Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Seeking AffirmationI fall prey to a predatory therapist.Based on a post by nymphicDisclaimer: Sexual relations between therapists and current clients are expressly prohibited.It took me years to become this relaxed in front of my therapist, able to share the most shameful parts of my mind with ease. All the vile, disgusting parts nobody else gets access to: he always reacts with a cool, detached professionalism. He's heard it all before, and worse, he tells me, and I've stopped apologizing for the revolting things I tell him: all my self-destructive habits, my awful intrusive thoughts, my horrific violent urges.It takes me one careless sentence for all that trust to crumble.We're talking about how my current beau is terrible in bed, leading me to mention how I think about other men when I'm fucking him. “And you're one of them,” I add. Carelessly. Completely unnecessarily.He pauses, then looks up from his notes. “Come again?'Without the input of my brain, my mouth decides the best course of action is to blab further. “Sometimes he gets me so close, but not close enough, so to tip myself over the edge, I think about you. You must know how hot you are, your beard, and tattoos, and curly hair, and...' I trail off as I notice his amused expression. “What?'He places his notes to the side and folds his hands over crossed legs. “You're placing an awful lot of trust in me to share this.'And I'm beginning to regret that, with the way he's looking at me like something to be devoured. I shrug. “I imagine you're good at your job. Or at least professional enough not to take advantage or be a creep.'He says nothing. The clock behind him ticks.'I think I'm the last person you'd creep on, anyway,' I continue, stammering. “I, this is just a little crush. On a therapist. I know there's no chance of reciprocation, not that I'm hitting on you, or anything, but I mean,”“There are a lot of assumptions you're making,” he interrupts. His gaze is intense, eyes so dark I can't tell where the pupil ends and iris begins.“Hmm?” My mouth dries.He counts off his fingers. “You assume I'm good at my job. You assume I'm not a creep, or a predator. You assume your fantasies are not reciprocated.”Whatever rapport we've built has evaporated. I feel numb, foggy. I'm distantly aware that I could be in danger, but I'm frozen to my seat as he stands, like I'm a rabbit caught in the jaws of a fox.“You have no idea what I'm capable of, do you?” he says, towering above me.My hands shake uncontrollably. “I don't understand?” I whisper. Surely, he won't...? There's no way, he wouldn't... not for me, surely?His smirk is lazy, predatory. “Stand,” he says, a strong command.I shrink into the chair. This can't be happening. I refuse to believe it.“Stand,” he repeats, and there's an irresistible dominance to his voice.What can I do but obey? I wobble to my feet like a newborn deer, and his hand clamps around my throat. I choke out a pitiful little gasp. He walks me backward until my spine hits the wall. I'm trapped.“What are you doing?” I whimper, my voice high and pathetic with the way he squeezes.His laugh is unkind, humorless. “What do you think I'm doing? I'm giving you what you want.” His voice is baritone and gravelly, a lion's purr, and his breath comes out hot on my face. I shiver. “Don't tell me you haven't touched yourself to the thought of this,” he says.He's not wrong.With the hand that isn't around my neck, he snakes his way into my jeans. Deftly his fingers find their way under the fabric of my underwear, and to my shame and horror, they caress the moisture building beneath my folds.“So wet, already?” he whispers, “It's disgusting, how badly you want me.” The words are harsh but they betray a smug satisfaction, and it sends a heat surging through me.His grin widens as he palms my aching vulva. I don't mean to, but my hips buck into him, and he chuckles.“Don't worry, I'll give you what you want.'“No, no...” I shake my head and whimper as his finger plunges inside me. I don't want this, I don't. It was just a fantasy, it was never meant to be real, and I never thought he would, but he hooks his index inside, grazing the pad against my front wall, and the moan that slips from my mouth is obscene.The hand around my neck suddenly slaps over my mouth. “Shut the fuck up,' he hisses, but he doesn't stop, and can't contain the moan that muffles into his palm as he fucks his fingers inside me.“Fuck,” he groans, “can you hear how wet you are? How sloppy you are?” His beard scratches at the sensitive skin of my jaw. “So pathetic and needy, a pathetic little whore.'His palm is wet over my face, and I realize I'm drooling.“Pathetic little whore,” he repeats, wiping my spit on my face. My legs inch wider and I hear the indecent sloshing of my arousal beneath his hand. “Bet you get off thinking about this after each session, don't you? Horny little thing. You'd beg for it, wouldn't you? Beg me to rape you?'I try to shake my head, but the hand over my face grips too tight. My thighs start to shake, and I can feel my wetness leaking, dripping down the top of my thighs, gooey and disgusting, just like me.“Tell me you would. Beg me.” His voice is so harsh, but it's so hot the way he's degrading me like this, and I'm slipping further and further off the edge. Tears spill down my cheeks as I shake my head. I do want to beg him, beg him to stop, but despite it all I can myself approaching the edge. The heat builds in my belly, thighs clenching his hand in a vice as they shudder and quake, and I'm so, so close, and I don't want him to stop, and I hate myself for it.“Oh no, oh no you don't,” he says, “You're not going to come already, are you? Fuck, you're more desperate than I thought.” His movements roughen, adding another finger, fucking into me relentlessly. “Don't do it, don't you fucking do it, you're not allowed to come, you're not allowed to enjoy this, you disgusting slut, “He's whispering hotly into my neck, like an open-mouthed kiss, and it's too late. I hurtle over the edge, falling apart, mouth open and drooling as I come undone on his fingers.He steps back. “Disgusting,” he says.I whimper and slide to the floor, red-faced and sweaty. I curl myself into a fetal position. I am disgusting. Nausea churns in my gut, and the room swims in front of my eyes.He squats beside me. His hand, the one which was inside me just a moment ago, wipes my wetness over my face, smudging my slime over my lips. He pushes his fingers inside my mouth, making me taste myself, then takes my chin in his hand and forces me to look at him through half-lidded eyes.“Such a slut. You can't be anything more than a worthless whore, can you?” He tosses me aside and stands. “Get on your knees.”Before I know it, I'm doing as he says, sitting back on my heels as he unbuckles his belt and frees his cock. I barely have a moment to breathe before his hand is fisting my hair at the nape of my neck and urging me onto his cock, shoving me down as far as I can go, until it slams against the back of my throat. I have to hold onto his muscular thighs for balance, the way he roughly drives into my open, slobbering mouth.Above me, his mouth hangs open, breathing heavy. A flush spreads across his cheeks, and his brows furrow.'What would your friends say, if they could see you like this?” he growls. “Debased like this? If they could see the pathetic whore you really are? Would they laugh at you, knowing how much you love being face-fucked like this?'My eyes roll back in my head and I sob, my mouth stretched around him. Rivulets of saliva dribble down my chin, my neck, between my breasts, which jiggle from the force of his thrusts.He makes a rough sound at the back of his throat. “Fuck... Would they use you like I am? Would they want a turn to ruin you? Fuck your pretty little mouth like I am? You wouldn't stop them, just let them take what they want, just like I'm taking what I want from you, oh, you're so good at taking my cock, “He pulls out and I gasp for air, gulping raspy breaths. I fall back, hands catching myself on the carpet as I try to recover, but before I can, he's positioning himself behind me, manhandling me so I'm on my hands and knees, face pressed against the carpet, ass presented to him like an offering.No preamble, no warning, he slams himself deep into me. The sound he makes, a feral and debauched groan, might be the hottest thing I've ever heard. It's equal parts primal and hedonic, all pretense of keeping quiet long forgotten. His blunt nails dig into the soft flesh of my hips as he drives himself into me, over and over and over.It's animalistic and it's savage, the vulgar slapping of his balls against my skin, the sweat and snot and tears and dribbling down my face, the wretched sobbing squeaks I make as he fucks me relentlessly. It is both endlessly hot and humiliating. There's the heat of shame curdling in my gut, how I shouldn't want this, it shouldn't feel so good. But then the way his strong hands tangle in my hair, pulling me, dragging me up against him; then the way he clamps his canines into my neck, the sharp painful pleasure of it; the way I know I couldn't fight him even if I tried. The way I am completely and utterly at his mercy; all of it has my thighs clenching and quivering as my second orgasm builds.“You're gonna come from this, huh? You close again, huh?” he pants in my ear. “This is what turns you on? Used like the worthless piece of meat you are?'I can't pretend. Sobbing, moaning, covered in drool and snot, I nod. “Uh huh. You can have me, you can use me. Have me however you want,” I whimper in my phlegmy voice. “You're so; oh; I'm so close; I'm gonna.'“Nope,” he says, suddenly pulling out of me, all at once leaving me empty and wanting. “You're not going to come again. You're mine to use, you're not allowed to like it too, you greedy little slut.” He rolls me over on my back, and, kneeling above me, strokes himself over my face. I open my mouth, tongue out, ready for him, while my fingers press against my aching clit, desperately clutching at the remnants of my ruined orgasm.“Fuck, look at you,” he breathes, “slimy, disgusting little slut. Fuck, you're so perfect.” He continues to mumble words both degrading and flattering until, with a final moan, his come spills over my tongue, hot and salty. As his spend drips down my flushed face, my hips gyrate into my hands and I spill over, too. My second orgasm is a weak, ruined shadow of the first, empty of my therapist but full of disgrace. I feel thoroughly debased. Disgusting. Glazed with spunk, a husk of a woman.The air is hot and thick with sex. There's a heavy ache in my center, a cold emptiness, as I stare up at the ceiling. I still don't believe what's just happened. There must be some mistake, some misunderstanding. Maybe I'm having a psychotic break. Maybe this is all in my head. Some fantasy turned foul.I can hear him re-buckling his belt and shuffling about at the desk, until he appears beside me, gently helping me sit upright. Tenderly he wipes the goo from my face with wet wipes, deep brown eyes searching mine. His dark curls are plastered to his face with sweat.“Nobody will know about this,” he says in a low voice. “You have my word. I know better than anyone how fragile you are, and how poorly you will handle anyone knowing how you threw yourself at me like that. Nobody will know what a greedy whore you really are. You can trust me.” The cruelty in his words are softened by how gentle he's being, softly caressing my shoulders as he wipes away the gunk from my skin.He's taking care of me.It's nice.He's a good person.He helps me to my feet. I shake like a lamb.“Anyway, our time is up.” He opens the door and ushers me out. “I'll see you next week.'The last I see of him is a predatory, vulpine grin, before the door clicks shut.Clinical PleasureKate visits Doctor Yang to treat her sexual dysfunctions.Based on a post by nymphic“Kate Williams?” calls the receptionist.At the sound of her name, a fair-complexioned young woman jerks her strawberry blonde head up. “Yes?”“Doctor Yang is ready to see you. Third door on the right.”Timidly, Kate walks up to Doctor Yang's office. She smooths her dress and takes a deep, shaky breath before entering.Doctor Yang looks to be in his mid-forties--black hair slicked back, greying at the temples. He's fit, with wide shoulders, and his shirt bunches around his elbows where the sleeves are rolled up, showing off well-defined forearms.He gives Kate a firm handshake before ushering her into the room. “Miss Williams, welcome, I'm Doctor Yang. Pull up a chair.”She perches primly on a chair of squeaky vinyl while he takes a seat behind his desk. There's an ancient, blocky computer taking up so much space on his desk, there's barely room left for the messy notes scattered about. Behind, a curtain half obscures an examination table. At the sight of it, trepidation bubbles in Kate's stomach.“What brings you in today?” the doctor asks.“Um.” She stares intently at the floor, unable to explain to this handsome doctor all of her sexual inadequacies.After the silence between them becomes sufficiently awkward, Doctor Yang takes pity on poor Kate, clearing his throat and shuffling his notes.“Look, it's normal to be nervous, but I assure you, I've heard it all before. This is a judgement free space, and I'm here to help you.” He looks at her with kind, dark eyes. “Whenever you're ready.”Kate fiddles with the hem of her sundress as she begins. “Well, I'm in a pretty new relationship right now, and. We're having intimacy issues.”“Intimacy issues,” says Doctor Yang. There's a distinct lack of judgement in his tone, which calms the anxiety in Kate's stomach. He's almost detached as he clack-clack-clacks the clunky keyboard. The behemoth computer buzzes and whirs away as he types. “Tell me more about the issues you've been having.”“My boyfriend and I; he's the one who urged me come here; are, well. We just started sleeping together. And I'm finding it quite difficult.” She bites her lip.“Difficult in what way?”Kate looks down at her sandals as she says, “I'm told sex ought to be pleasurable.”Doctor Yang chuckles, showing off deep dimples. “It's generally supposed to be, yes. That hasn't been your experience?”Kate shakes her head, curly hair bouncing around her shoulders. “No, not the times we've tried together. I just can't see how anything can... fit.” She can feel her face heating up. “Every time we try it's so uncomfortable for me. Sometimes it hurts. Plus, I've never been able to... get there. Not when we're together, at least.”Doctor Yang nods. “You know, many women your age have that experience too. It's completely normal.”“What? You mean this is just how it is?”She must look panic-stricken, because Doctor Yang immediately backtracks. “No, no! It shouldn't hurt, it should never hurt! What I mean to say is that this issue is more common than you realize, and it's definitely something I can help with.”She slumps back in the chair with relief, air whooshing from her lungs.“To get to the bottom of your problem, though,” Doctor Yang continues, “I'm going to ask a few personal questions. There will be no judgement from me, I just want you to answer honestly. Is that okay?” His face is open and friendly, and Kate trusts him, but what could he mean, personal questions? How much more personal can it get?“Sure,” she says, and if Doctor Yang notices her hesitation, he doesn't let on.

Counselors and Affirmation.Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Seeking AffirmationI fall prey to a predatory therapist.Based on a post by nymphicDisclaimer: Sexual relations between therapists and current clients are expressly prohibited.It took me years to become this relaxed in front of my therapist, able to share the most shameful parts of my mind with ease. All the vile, disgusting parts nobody else gets access to: he always reacts with a cool, detached professionalism. He's heard it all before, and worse, he tells me, and I've stopped apologizing for the revolting things I tell him: all my self-destructive habits, my awful intrusive thoughts, my horrific violent urges.It takes me one careless sentence for all that trust to crumble.We're talking about how my current beau is terrible in bed, leading me to mention how I think about other men when I'm fucking him. “And you're one of them,” I add. Carelessly. Completely unnecessarily.He pauses, then looks up from his notes. “Come again?'Without the input of my brain, my mouth decides the best course of action is to blab further. “Sometimes he gets me so close, but not close enough, so to tip myself over the edge, I think about you. You must know how hot you are, your beard, and tattoos, and curly hair, and...' I trail off as I notice his amused expression. “What?'He places his notes to the side and folds his hands over crossed legs. “You're placing an awful lot of trust in me to share this.'And I'm beginning to regret that, with the way he's looking at me like something to be devoured. I shrug. “I imagine you're good at your job. Or at least professional enough not to take advantage or be a creep.'He says nothing. The clock behind him ticks.'I think I'm the last person you'd creep on, anyway,' I continue, stammering. “I, this is just a little crush. On a therapist. I know there's no chance of reciprocation, not that I'm hitting on you, or anything, but I mean,”“There are a lot of assumptions you're making,” he interrupts. His gaze is intense, eyes so dark I can't tell where the pupil ends and iris begins.“Hmm?” My mouth dries.He counts off his fingers. “You assume I'm good at my job. You assume I'm not a creep, or a predator. You assume your fantasies are not reciprocated.”Whatever rapport we've built has evaporated. I feel numb, foggy. I'm distantly aware that I could be in danger, but I'm frozen to my seat as he stands, like I'm a rabbit caught in the jaws of a fox.“You have no idea what I'm capable of, do you?” he says, towering above me.My hands shake uncontrollably. “I don't understand?” I whisper. Surely, he won't...? There's no way, he wouldn't... not for me, surely?His smirk is lazy, predatory. “Stand,” he says, a strong command.I shrink into the chair. This can't be happening. I refuse to believe it.“Stand,” he repeats, and there's an irresistible dominance to his voice.What can I do but obey? I wobble to my feet like a newborn deer, and his hand clamps around my throat. I choke out a pitiful little gasp. He walks me backward until my spine hits the wall. I'm trapped.“What are you doing?” I whimper, my voice high and pathetic with the way he squeezes.His laugh is unkind, humorless. “What do you think I'm doing? I'm giving you what you want.” His voice is baritone and gravelly, a lion's purr, and his breath comes out hot on my face. I shiver. “Don't tell me you haven't touched yourself to the thought of this,” he says.He's not wrong.With the hand that isn't around my neck, he snakes his way into my jeans. Deftly his fingers find their way under the fabric of my underwear, and to my shame and horror, they caress the moisture building beneath my folds.“So wet, already?” he whispers, “It's disgusting, how badly you want me.” The words are harsh but they betray a smug satisfaction, and it sends a heat surging through me.His grin widens as he palms my aching vulva. I don't mean to, but my hips buck into him, and he chuckles.“Don't worry, I'll give you what you want.'“No, no...” I shake my head and whimper as his finger plunges inside me. I don't want this, I don't. It was just a fantasy, it was never meant to be real, and I never thought he would, but he hooks his index inside, grazing the pad against my front wall, and the moan that slips from my mouth is obscene.The hand around my neck suddenly slaps over my mouth. “Shut the fuck up,' he hisses, but he doesn't stop, and can't contain the moan that muffles into his palm as he fucks his fingers inside me.“Fuck,” he groans, “can you hear how wet you are? How sloppy you are?” His beard scratches at the sensitive skin of my jaw. “So pathetic and needy, a pathetic little whore.'His palm is wet over my face, and I realize I'm drooling.“Pathetic little whore,” he repeats, wiping my spit on my face. My legs inch wider and I hear the indecent sloshing of my arousal beneath his hand. “Bet you get off thinking about this after each session, don't you? Horny little thing. You'd beg for it, wouldn't you? Beg me to rape you?'I try to shake my head, but the hand over my face grips too tight. My thighs start to shake, and I can feel my wetness leaking, dripping down the top of my thighs, gooey and disgusting, just like me.“Tell me you would. Beg me.” His voice is so harsh, but it's so hot the way he's degrading me like this, and I'm slipping further and further off the edge. Tears spill down my cheeks as I shake my head. I do want to beg him, beg him to stop, but despite it all I can myself approaching the edge. The heat builds in my belly, thighs clenching his hand in a vice as they shudder and quake, and I'm so, so close, and I don't want him to stop, and I hate myself for it.“Oh no, oh no you don't,” he says, “You're not going to come already, are you? Fuck, you're more desperate than I thought.” His movements roughen, adding another finger, fucking into me relentlessly. “Don't do it, don't you fucking do it, you're not allowed to come, you're not allowed to enjoy this, you disgusting slut, “He's whispering hotly into my neck, like an open-mouthed kiss, and it's too late. I hurtle over the edge, falling apart, mouth open and drooling as I come undone on his fingers.He steps back. “Disgusting,” he says.I whimper and slide to the floor, red-faced and sweaty. I curl myself into a fetal position. I am disgusting. Nausea churns in my gut, and the room swims in front of my eyes.He squats beside me. His hand, the one which was inside me just a moment ago, wipes my wetness over my face, smudging my slime over my lips. He pushes his fingers inside my mouth, making me taste myself, then takes my chin in his hand and forces me to look at him through half-lidded eyes.“Such a slut. You can't be anything more than a worthless whore, can you?” He tosses me aside and stands. “Get on your knees.”Before I know it, I'm doing as he says, sitting back on my heels as he unbuckles his belt and frees his cock. I barely have a moment to breathe before his hand is fisting my hair at the nape of my neck and urging me onto his cock, shoving me down as far as I can go, until it slams against the back of my throat. I have to hold onto his muscular thighs for balance, the way he roughly drives into my open, slobbering mouth.Above me, his mouth hangs open, breathing heavy. A flush spreads across his cheeks, and his brows furrow.'What would your friends say, if they could see you like this?” he growls. “Debased like this? If they could see the pathetic whore you really are? Would they laugh at you, knowing how much you love being face-fucked like this?'My eyes roll back in my head and I sob, my mouth stretched around him. Rivulets of saliva dribble down my chin, my neck, between my breasts, which jiggle from the force of his thrusts.He makes a rough sound at the back of his throat. “Fuck... Would they use you like I am? Would they want a turn to ruin you? Fuck your pretty little mouth like I am? You wouldn't stop them, just let them take what they want, just like I'm taking what I want from you, oh, you're so good at taking my cock, “He pulls out and I gasp for air, gulping raspy breaths. I fall back, hands catching myself on the carpet as I try to recover, but before I can, he's positioning himself behind me, manhandling me so I'm on my hands and knees, face pressed against the carpet, ass presented to him like an offering.No preamble, no warning, he slams himself deep into me. The sound he makes, a feral and debauched groan, might be the hottest thing I've ever heard. It's equal parts primal and hedonic, all pretense of keeping quiet long forgotten. His blunt nails dig into the soft flesh of my hips as he drives himself into me, over and over and over.It's animalistic and it's savage, the vulgar slapping of his balls against my skin, the sweat and snot and tears and dribbling down my face, the wretched sobbing squeaks I make as he fucks me relentlessly. It is both endlessly hot and humiliating. There's the heat of shame curdling in my gut, how I shouldn't want this, it shouldn't feel so good. But then the way his strong hands tangle in my hair, pulling me, dragging me up against him; then the way he clamps his canines into my neck, the sharp painful pleasure of it; the way I know I couldn't fight him even if I tried. The way I am completely and utterly at his mercy; all of it has my thighs clenching and quivering as my second orgasm builds.“You're gonna come from this, huh? You close again, huh?” he pants in my ear. “This is what turns you on? Used like the worthless piece of meat you are?'I can't pretend. Sobbing, moaning, covered in drool and snot, I nod. “Uh huh. You can have me, you can use me. Have me however you want,” I whimper in my phlegmy voice. “You're so; oh; I'm so close; I'm gonna.'“Nope,” he says, suddenly pulling out of me, all at once leaving me empty and wanting. “You're not going to come again. You're mine to use, you're not allowed to like it too, you greedy little slut.” He rolls me over on my back, and, kneeling above me, strokes himself over my face. I open my mouth, tongue out, ready for him, while my fingers press against my aching clit, desperately clutching at the remnants of my ruined orgasm.“Fuck, look at you,” he breathes, “slimy, disgusting little slut. Fuck, you're so perfect.” He continues to mumble words both degrading and flattering until, with a final moan, his come spills over my tongue, hot and salty. As his spend drips down my flushed face, my hips gyrate into my hands and I spill over, too. My second orgasm is a weak, ruined shadow of the first, empty of my therapist but full of disgrace. I feel thoroughly debased. Disgusting. Glazed with spunk, a husk of a woman.The air is hot and thick with sex. There's a heavy ache in my center, a cold emptiness, as I stare up at the ceiling. I still don't believe what's just happened. There must be some mistake, some misunderstanding. Maybe I'm having a psychotic break. Maybe this is all in my head. Some fantasy turned foul.I can hear him re-buckling his belt and shuffling about at the desk, until he appears beside me, gently helping me sit upright. Tenderly he wipes the goo from my face with wet wipes, deep brown eyes searching mine. His dark curls are plastered to his face with sweat.“Nobody will know about this,” he says in a low voice. “You have my word. I know better than anyone how fragile you are, and how poorly you will handle anyone knowing how you threw yourself at me like that. Nobody will know what a greedy whore you really are. You can trust me.” The cruelty in his words are softened by how gentle he's being, softly caressing my shoulders as he wipes away the gunk from my skin.He's taking care of me.It's nice.He's a good person.He helps me to my feet. I shake like a lamb.“Anyway, our time is up.” He opens the door and ushers me out. “I'll see you next week.'The last I see of him is a predatory, vulpine grin, before the door clicks shut.Clinical PleasureKate visits Doctor Yang to treat her sexual dysfunctions.Based on a post by nymphic“Kate Williams?” calls the receptionist.At the sound of her name, a fair-complexioned young woman jerks her strawberry blonde head up. “Yes?”“Doctor Yang is ready to see you. Third door on the right.”Timidly, Kate walks up to Doctor Yang's office. She smooths her dress and takes a deep, shaky breath before entering.Doctor Yang looks to be in his mid-forties--black hair slicked back, greying at the temples. He's fit, with wide shoulders, and his shirt bunches around his elbows where the sleeves are rolled up, showing off well-defined forearms.He gives Kate a firm handshake before ushering her into the room. “Miss Williams, welcome, I'm Doctor Yang. Pull up a chair.”She perches primly on a chair of squeaky vinyl while he takes a seat behind his desk. There's an ancient, blocky computer taking up so much space on his desk, there's barely room left for the messy notes scattered about. Behind, a curtain half obscures an examination table. At the sight of it, trepidation bubbles in Kate's stomach.“What brings you in today?” the doctor asks.“Um.” She stares intently at the floor, unable to explain to this handsome doctor all of her sexual inadequacies.After the silence between them becomes sufficiently awkward, Doctor Yang takes pity on poor Kate, clearing his throat and shuffling his notes.“Look, it's normal to be nervous, but I assure you, I've heard it all before. This is a judgement free space, and I'm here to help you.” He looks at her with kind, dark eyes. “Whenever you're ready.”Kate fiddles with the hem of her sundress as she begins. “Well, I'm in a pretty new relationship right now, and. We're having intimacy issues.”“Intimacy issues,” says Doctor Yang. There's a distinct lack of judgement in his tone, which calms the anxiety in Kate's stomach. He's almost detached as he clack-clack-clacks the clunky keyboard. The behemoth computer buzzes and whirs away as he types. “Tell me more about the issues you've been having.”“My boyfriend and I; he's the one who urged me come here; are, well. We just started sleeping together. And I'm finding it quite difficult.” She bites her lip.“Difficult in what way?”Kate looks down at her sandals as she says, “I'm told sex ought to be pleasurable.”Doctor Yang chuckles, showing off deep dimples. “It's generally supposed to be, yes. That hasn't been your experience?”Kate shakes her head, curly hair bouncing around her shoulders. “No, not the times we've tried together. I just can't see how anything can... fit.” She can feel her face heating up. “Every time we try it's so uncomfortable for me. Sometimes it hurts. Plus, I've never been able to... get there. Not when we're together, at least.”Doctor Yang nods. “You know, many women your age have that experience too. It's completely normal.”“What? You mean this is just how it is?”She must look panic-stricken, because Doctor Yang immediately backtracks. “No, no! It shouldn't hurt, it should never hurt! What I mean to say is that this issue is more common than you realize, and it's definitely something I can help with.”She slumps back in the chair with relief, air whooshing from her lungs.“To get to the bottom of your problem, though,” Doctor Yang continues, “I'm going to ask a few personal questions. There will be no judgement from me, I just want you to answer honestly. Is that okay?” His face is open and friendly, and Kate trusts him, but what could he mean, personal questions? How much more personal can it get?“Sure,” she says, and if Doctor Yang notices her hesitation, he doesn't let on.

CRUEL, INCOHERENT, UNFORGOTTEN:  5/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 PRC  

CRUEL, INCOHERENT, UNFORGOTTEN:  8/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 PRC  

CRUEL, INCOHERENT, UNFORGOTTEN:  7/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 PRC  

CRUEL, INCOHERENT, UNFORGOTTEN:  6/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 PRC  

CRUEL, INCOHERENT, UNFORGOTTEN:  1/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1967 PRC  

CRUEL, INCOHERENT, UNFORGOTTEN:  4/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 PRC  

CRUEL, INCOHERENT, UNFORGOTTEN:  3/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?  1966 PRC

CRUEL, INCOHERENT, UNFORGOTTEN:  2/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 PRC  

Two stories of scholarly lasses with healthy libidos.Based on the posts by Select Redux. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. Stimulating ReadingSexual adventures amid the bookshelves.Unlocking the big oak doors, Emily glances up at the Spring sun filtering through the stained-glass windows of the 'Institute'. Originally endowed by a Victorian benefactor, now part of a modern university, this old building goes unnoticed by most people passing by on this bright 1993 morning.The research library within opens just three days a week with Emily, its part-time librarian, fitting the job around her PhD studies. Some colleagues consider it a fusty backwater; Emily rather enjoys the church-like surroundings, lofty ceilings and marble floors, and calm, quiet ambience.Starting the day as usual at 8.45am, Emily turns on the lights, picks up the post and then sits at the front desk waiting for students to arrive. The job isn't the most exacting; mainly helping undergraduates locate obscure books, its perk being plenty of time to write her thesis and, blush-making to admit, peruse the rather splendid erotica section. Something that's become a bit of a habit, leaving her distracted and almost perpetually aroused.This 'special collection' is kept locked; its key is supposedly secure in a safe; in fact on a chain around Emily's neck. Currently 'in between boyfriends' (no, not like that!) in truth modern men, mostly boys inhabiting adult bodies in her opinion, don't do it for Emily. Call her traditional, she wants someone old-fashioned.Emily's romantic, bookish outlook on life sometimes feels unsuited to modern times and is exemplified by today's attire: cardigan, blouse, and a string of pearls, the epitome of respectability; a typical librarian. A knee-length skirt, sensible shoes, minimal makeup and glasses habitually perched upon her head complete the academic look. However, underneath one (who? she reflects glumly) might be surprised to find some almost sinfully brief lingerie adorning her trim figure. Perhaps not so conservative;Later that afternoon, Emily looks at her watch, half an hour until closing, not likely to see anyone else today she thinks. Wrongly, because striding confidently through the rotating door and purposefully approaching her desk is a new customer. In contrast to the usual scruffy students (although arguably the lecturers are worse) he's smartly dressed. Wearing a tie in fact; Emily likes a chap in a suit and his fits very well. This tall man with silvery grey hair favors her with a confident smile and Emily melts inside, lust at first sight.Michael, they are quickly on first name terms, is a postgrad mature student working on the final dissertation of an English literature MA. He's taken a couple of weeks' leave from an unspecified (Emily suspects high-powered and well-remunerated) job to complete it. Meaning, she sends a silent prayer of thanks to whichever celestial deity might be responsible, he'll be making frequent trips to the library. Visits she soon begins to eagerly anticipate, feeling disproportionately disappointed on days when this charming, personable and undoubtedly assertive man doesn't appear. Get a grip girl, chides her inner voice, whatever your fantasies this is a purely professional relationship."What did you do before studying," she enquires one morning."Came from money, followed the family tradition into the City and made some more," he shrugs. "Clichéd thing for a privileged person to say but it didn't make me happy.""What does?""Good writing, which explains why I'm here in literary mode, how about you?""A very bright kid from a feckless, under-achieving family; got a scholarship, got out of my dead-end town and got a higher education. Not having money means I have to take a series of dull jobs to pay my way." There's no need to make her point any more strongly, Michael gets the implication."I detect a steely determination," he responds without rancor."Academically, yes," she agrees, "in order to remain with my beloved books, but unfashionable though it is I'd happily be rescued by a knight in shining armor. Will you be my knight?" Christ, she thinks, where did that come from? Silly mare you've blown it now."If you'll be my damsel in distress I'd be delighted," Michael answers lightly, but a die has been cast."What are you working on today?" he enquires conversationally when next visiting."These books were recently acquired for the special collections section. I'm trying to catalogue them," she explains, outwardly serene, but heart beating fast."Ah the erotica," Michael raises a knowing eyebrow, "better leave you to it then." He turns to a nearby table with a couple of hefty tomes and commences making notes while covertly observing Emily, absently twirling a lock of hair with one hand, the other no longer on the table but underneath. Much later, abruptly jolted from a pleasurable reverie by his shadow, Emily becomes abruptly aware of Michael's looming presence."You're spending a lot of time on books from that particular genre," he says, it isn't a question."Well; " she stammers."Perhaps that's why you've twice left the University's precious erotica shelves unlocked lately?"Her eyes widen in shock. "How did you know?" It's true, no point in denying the fact."I notice things. An accident I'm sure, but rather careless, some might even say naughty. Are you naughty Emily?" Silence, the cat has got her tongue. "Do you deserve to be punished? Might that be a better solution than the matter being brought to the attention of the Vice-Chancellor?" Michael presses home his advantage. "Those rare editions are extremely valuable. Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson, bought to book one might say." Emily gets the joke, but it's no laughing matter."Punished; lesson?" she stammers, "what do you mean?""I think you know to what I'm referring, you've read enough about spanking, no doubt wondered what it might be like. I don't believe you're as innocent as you pretend Emily, I saw you slide a hand under your skirt just then. Most unprofessional, you deserve to have your bottom smacked.""Oh; " Overwhelmed by his quiet certainty that she'll obey, Ellie discovers in herself a complimentary willingness to defer; feels her pussy throbbing with desire at every word Michael utters. This is ridiculous, thinks her rational brain, I'm an independent woman, he's no right to demand my obedience. But you know you want to, responds her libidinous subconscious, you've so often dreamt of such a scenario, and how you'd willingly submit;She nods anxiously towards the door. With an unreadable expression, Michael walks purposefully towards the entrance, locks it and returns."Bad girls require discipline," he whispers in her ear."They do, sir," she meekly agrees."Come here." Emily stands next to him, hands behind her back."Turn around and lean forward against the desk."Deferentially, eyes downcast, Emily complies; wrapping his left arm around her slender waist Michael slowly, and deliberately raises her skirt. Emily wishes her boobs were just a little bigger; wishes her arse was just a little smaller but knows her lovely legs are just right. Now so does he.A grunt of male disapproval, "I don't like tights," he tugs her pantyhose down revealing flawless bottom cheeks, "next time I expect you to wear stockings." Next time, who said anything about next time? Despite her mounting panic, Emily has an epiphany of understanding; Michael's coercion is more implied than actual, less of a threat by him as a need within her. He runs his hands appreciatively over her pristine, unmarked bottom then tugs those unexpectedly racy, almost transparent black panties up hard into Emily's damp divide, the silken scrap disappearing between puffy pussy lips, chafing her swollen clit."Turns you on doesn't it" he growls, holding her tightly."Yes, but I'm scared," she whispers and it's true, the physical proximity and her helplessness in the hands of an alpha male are more exciting than anything Emily has ever before encountered.Emily tenses, holding her breath, awaiting the inevitable; yet the initial smack still catches her by surprise. At first, it's mainly about the ringing percussive sound, a numbing shock. Prudently Michael allows a pause, he can tell it's her first time. Gradually her skin pinkens and a sharp stinging sensation suffuses Emily's posterior."Oh," she looks at him wide-eyed, "oh yes," amazed by her compliance with the punitive intentions of a man she scarcely knows. A second spank, slightly harder this time."Feeling it now aren't you," Michael mutters, "rather different from in the stories you're so keen on?" True, the reality of what before was only fevered fiction is raw and immediate." I'll stop if you ask me to," he adds."Surely not when I've been so wicked," Emily replies huskily. The scene is set, and his hard palm strikes her bottom repeatedly as Michael methodically and unhurriedly continues, Emily's body responding animatedly to the burning sensation gradually suffusing her derriere."Keep still," he commands as she squirms in a futile attempt to dissipate the smart.Eventually, Emily has no idea how long, five minutes, or an eternity, Michael ceases her chastisement. Both are breathing heavily now, albeit for different reasons. He slides a hand up her inner thigh and under her knickers."Good girl," Michael whispers, pushing an exploratory digit into Emily's sopping sex. She shuts her eyes and moves against his fingers, Emily is needy, alas, her evident excitement is unrequited. Taking her by the shoulders, Michael turns the shaken young woman to face the wall."Make yourself respectable," he instructs in a tone countenancing no dissent, "don't move until I've left, no rubbing your bottom, or anywhere else. I'll let myself out," he kisses the top of her head, "and be back soon to do one final bit piece of research, don't miss me too much."And then he's gone; taken Emily to the edge and abandoned her unsatisfied. Which, thinks Emily, bottom glowing fiercely, is truly sadistic. Simmering with sexual awakening, she's no intention of being denied. Walking stiffly towards her chair Emily sits, wincing as her tender buttocks contact with the seat. Legs spread and eyes closed she pushes a hand down the front of her panties and addresses her pent-up frustration with flying fingers, and soon has a shattering orgasm.On Monday morning, after a weekend mentally replaying this momentous encounter, and multiple flouting of Michael's embargo on masturbation, Emily walks into work full of hope for what the new week may bring. Inwardly more confident, her outward appearance has also altered. She's taken more care with makeup, mascara and her favorite cherry red lipstick. Does her best not to tug down her hem at every step. Emily hasn't previously worn such a short skirt and worries people may notice she's wearing stockings. Once at work, it's business as usual, albeit with some appreciative glances from borrowers, being desired is an unfamiliar but welcome ego boost. Emboldened, Emily experiments with undoing the second button of her blouse.She can't conceal her unhappiness when Michael fails to arrive and becomes increasingly despondent when he doesn't turn up on Tuesday and Wednesday either. By Thursday she's almost lost hope. Turning to the erotica collection for comfort a photograph falls from between the pages of a book on 'Le Vice Anglaise'. Emily looks aghast, Michael! But it can't be, the date scribbled on the back is 1936, does her dom have a doppelganger? All too much of a conundrum to deal with in her overwrought state, Emily locks up early and heads disconsolately home.On Friday she settles onto her stool and re-opens the same book. Was Michael ever really here, she wonders? Could this have been some sort of hallucination, an epic instance of self-delusion? Of course not, get real, examine the facts, she inwardly chides. Consider the evidence of two days of sitting gingerly, the finger marks on your sore buttocks visible in the mirror. She was spanked alright, the pertinent question being whether she will see Michael again, let alone reach the sexual conclusion so ardently desired. Not being clairvoyant, Emily doesn't have a clue about either outcome, for now, she tells herself sternly, you'd better get on with some work. Mentally listing the day's mundane tasks Emily doesn't notice a familiar figure quietly enter the building until he's immediately adjacent. Caught unawares her incipient shout of shock is stifled by his hand."I'll remove it from your mouth," his voice whispers, "if you promise not to scream, understood?" Emily remains frozen, struggling to get to grips with her predicament, then nods assent."Where did you appear from?" she enquires in a small voice."Not important right now," he shushes."Your picture; " She points at the faded sepia print on the table."My father," he laughs, "chip off the old block, aren't I? Long gone, of course, he put up the money to establish the erotica collection you've so much enjoyed." Helping the shaken young woman to her feet he moves Emily to face a bookcase."Just relax," he says calmly, trailing a hand teasingly up and down the back of her thighs."Relax," she tenses at the suggestion, "when I don't know what you intend to do.""I think you can hazard a pretty accurate prediction," he teases."I'm quite sure you're planning to punish me again," says Emily shivering with anticipation at the thought, "what might occur afterwards is what's preoccupying me.""What do you hope happens?" he enquires, lips brushing the nape of her neck."I think you can make a very good guess," Emily replies cheekily.Right now, she can't think of anything she wouldn't let him do, Emily has read many salacious books and has a vivid imagination."I'm enjoying your new look," says Michael appreciatively, "let's explore beneath; " He unbuttons her blouse to the waist, frees her boobs and rolls each erect nipple in turn between finger and thumb. In response, Emily kisses him hard on the mouth, her acquiescence clearly in no doubt. His other hand slips between her thighs and encounters wetness between them. Emily moans at this touch, yearning to be penetrated by the hard cock she can feel bulging through his trousers and pressing against her thigh."You'll endure a harsher correction this time," he murmurs, bending Emily across the desk while removing his belt."The door", she gestures urgently.He shrugs off her concern. "We'll just have to take the chance; I find a little jeopardy adds a frisson of excitement." Wrestling up the short, tight skirt exposes the soft curves of Emily's hips and beautiful bottom; Michael monetarily enjoys the sight, and then pulls her knickers down and off."Someone wants to be fucked pretty badly," he observes, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glimpses her damp, pouting slit. With no warning he straps Emily, hard and fast, leaving blazing bands of hurt across both cheeks and down to her stocking tops. She yelps, groans and stamps her feet, nevertheless thrusting out her buttocks to meet each of the worn leather's cruel kisses. A further dozen overlapping strokes sear across her fiery red behind until Emily thinks she can't possibly endure further chastisement."Hurts," she whimpers, tears in her eyes, although the perfect pain only serves to stoke a fire of arousal down below. Aware of her limits Michael runs his hands along the insides of Emily's legs and pulls her knees apart, leaving her open and exposed. His tongue repeatedly explores the length of her labia, right up to the nub of her clit, building each caress into a rhythmic repetition. Emily feels an orgasm inexorably approaching, her breathing becomes fast and uneven."Fuck you're tight," he observes crudely, sliding a finger into Emily's inviting pink cunny and then positioning his erection at her slick entrance."Stop teasing and do it hard!" she screams, last vestiges of dignity and reserve surrendered. Lewdly Emily pushes back her hips, anxious to have him inside her. Equally caught up in the intensity of the moment, Michael fills the lusty librarian with the cock she craves. All inhibitions abandoned, Emily feels the rhythm of his thrusts increasing, her pussy spasms and takes them both to an inevitable sexual crescendo. They lay silent for a moment before Michael chivalrously passes Emily a large linen handkerchief to mop the come leaking onto her nylon-clad thighs."I think my poor bottom has suffered quite enough for one day," she whispers sensually, "how about you take me home to your place and fuck me again, slowly and gently?""How about we take one of the books from the special collection to provide us with inspiration?" he replies."Oh, I think I've already done quite enough research," Emily responds with a giggle."Then let's grab a bottle of wine and see if we can't put theory into practice," agrees Michael.Cut to a year later, doctorate earned; Emily has been promoted to take charge of the main university library. There's a new young woman librarian at the Institute, still on probation and requiring guidance. Emily considers herself a firm but fair manager and has kindly offered an after-hours tutorial on the special collection. A recently successful MA student, now a research fellow, somewhat older and vastly experienced, may join them;By Select Redux for LiteroticaCleverness is SexyWinning a quiz transformed Alice from swot to hot.By Select ReduxAn exceptionally brainy young woman, Alice has pursued her academic interests to the exclusion of almost everything else in life. There will, she reasons, on the verge of her 23rd birthday, the M A she's strived so hard to attain nearl

Two stories of scholarly lasses with healthy libidos.Based on the posts by Select Redux. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. Stimulating ReadingSexual adventures amid the bookshelves.Unlocking the big oak doors, Emily glances up at the Spring sun filtering through the stained-glass windows of the 'Institute'. Originally endowed by a Victorian benefactor, now part of a modern university, this old building goes unnoticed by most people passing by on this bright 1993 morning.The research library within opens just three days a week with Emily, its part-time librarian, fitting the job around her PhD studies. Some colleagues consider it a fusty backwater; Emily rather enjoys the church-like surroundings, lofty ceilings and marble floors, and calm, quiet ambience.Starting the day as usual at 8.45am, Emily turns on the lights, picks up the post and then sits at the front desk waiting for students to arrive. The job isn't the most exacting; mainly helping undergraduates locate obscure books, its perk being plenty of time to write her thesis and, blush-making to admit, peruse the rather splendid erotica section. Something that's become a bit of a habit, leaving her distracted and almost perpetually aroused.This 'special collection' is kept locked; its key is supposedly secure in a safe; in fact on a chain around Emily's neck. Currently 'in between boyfriends' (no, not like that!) in truth modern men, mostly boys inhabiting adult bodies in her opinion, don't do it for Emily. Call her traditional, she wants someone old-fashioned.Emily's romantic, bookish outlook on life sometimes feels unsuited to modern times and is exemplified by today's attire: cardigan, blouse, and a string of pearls, the epitome of respectability; a typical librarian. A knee-length skirt, sensible shoes, minimal makeup and glasses habitually perched upon her head complete the academic look. However, underneath one (who? she reflects glumly) might be surprised to find some almost sinfully brief lingerie adorning her trim figure. Perhaps not so conservative;Later that afternoon, Emily looks at her watch, half an hour until closing, not likely to see anyone else today she thinks. Wrongly, because striding confidently through the rotating door and purposefully approaching her desk is a new customer. In contrast to the usual scruffy students (although arguably the lecturers are worse) he's smartly dressed. Wearing a tie in fact; Emily likes a chap in a suit and his fits very well. This tall man with silvery grey hair favors her with a confident smile and Emily melts inside, lust at first sight.Michael, they are quickly on first name terms, is a postgrad mature student working on the final dissertation of an English literature MA. He's taken a couple of weeks' leave from an unspecified (Emily suspects high-powered and well-remunerated) job to complete it. Meaning, she sends a silent prayer of thanks to whichever celestial deity might be responsible, he'll be making frequent trips to the library. Visits she soon begins to eagerly anticipate, feeling disproportionately disappointed on days when this charming, personable and undoubtedly assertive man doesn't appear. Get a grip girl, chides her inner voice, whatever your fantasies this is a purely professional relationship."What did you do before studying," she enquires one morning."Came from money, followed the family tradition into the City and made some more," he shrugs. "Clichéd thing for a privileged person to say but it didn't make me happy.""What does?""Good writing, which explains why I'm here in literary mode, how about you?""A very bright kid from a feckless, under-achieving family; got a scholarship, got out of my dead-end town and got a higher education. Not having money means I have to take a series of dull jobs to pay my way." There's no need to make her point any more strongly, Michael gets the implication."I detect a steely determination," he responds without rancor."Academically, yes," she agrees, "in order to remain with my beloved books, but unfashionable though it is I'd happily be rescued by a knight in shining armor. Will you be my knight?" Christ, she thinks, where did that come from? Silly mare you've blown it now."If you'll be my damsel in distress I'd be delighted," Michael answers lightly, but a die has been cast."What are you working on today?" he enquires conversationally when next visiting."These books were recently acquired for the special collections section. I'm trying to catalogue them," she explains, outwardly serene, but heart beating fast."Ah the erotica," Michael raises a knowing eyebrow, "better leave you to it then." He turns to a nearby table with a couple of hefty tomes and commences making notes while covertly observing Emily, absently twirling a lock of hair with one hand, the other no longer on the table but underneath. Much later, abruptly jolted from a pleasurable reverie by his shadow, Emily becomes abruptly aware of Michael's looming presence."You're spending a lot of time on books from that particular genre," he says, it isn't a question."Well; " she stammers."Perhaps that's why you've twice left the University's precious erotica shelves unlocked lately?"Her eyes widen in shock. "How did you know?" It's true, no point in denying the fact."I notice things. An accident I'm sure, but rather careless, some might even say naughty. Are you naughty Emily?" Silence, the cat has got her tongue. "Do you deserve to be punished? Might that be a better solution than the matter being brought to the attention of the Vice-Chancellor?" Michael presses home his advantage. "Those rare editions are extremely valuable. Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson, bought to book one might say." Emily gets the joke, but it's no laughing matter."Punished; lesson?" she stammers, "what do you mean?""I think you know to what I'm referring, you've read enough about spanking, no doubt wondered what it might be like. I don't believe you're as innocent as you pretend Emily, I saw you slide a hand under your skirt just then. Most unprofessional, you deserve to have your bottom smacked.""Oh; " Overwhelmed by his quiet certainty that she'll obey, Ellie discovers in herself a complimentary willingness to defer; feels her pussy throbbing with desire at every word Michael utters. This is ridiculous, thinks her rational brain, I'm an independent woman, he's no right to demand my obedience. But you know you want to, responds her libidinous subconscious, you've so often dreamt of such a scenario, and how you'd willingly submit;She nods anxiously towards the door. With an unreadable expression, Michael walks purposefully towards the entrance, locks it and returns."Bad girls require discipline," he whispers in her ear."They do, sir," she meekly agrees."Come here." Emily stands next to him, hands behind her back."Turn around and lean forward against the desk."Deferentially, eyes downcast, Emily complies; wrapping his left arm around her slender waist Michael slowly, and deliberately raises her skirt. Emily wishes her boobs were just a little bigger; wishes her arse was just a little smaller but knows her lovely legs are just right. Now so does he.A grunt of male disapproval, "I don't like tights," he tugs her pantyhose down revealing flawless bottom cheeks, "next time I expect you to wear stockings." Next time, who said anything about next time? Despite her mounting panic, Emily has an epiphany of understanding; Michael's coercion is more implied than actual, less of a threat by him as a need within her. He runs his hands appreciatively over her pristine, unmarked bottom then tugs those unexpectedly racy, almost transparent black panties up hard into Emily's damp divide, the silken scrap disappearing between puffy pussy lips, chafing her swollen clit."Turns you on doesn't it" he growls, holding her tightly."Yes, but I'm scared," she whispers and it's true, the physical proximity and her helplessness in the hands of an alpha male are more exciting than anything Emily has ever before encountered.Emily tenses, holding her breath, awaiting the inevitable; yet the initial smack still catches her by surprise. At first, it's mainly about the ringing percussive sound, a numbing shock. Prudently Michael allows a pause, he can tell it's her first time. Gradually her skin pinkens and a sharp stinging sensation suffuses Emily's posterior."Oh," she looks at him wide-eyed, "oh yes," amazed by her compliance with the punitive intentions of a man she scarcely knows. A second spank, slightly harder this time."Feeling it now aren't you," Michael mutters, "rather different from in the stories you're so keen on?" True, the reality of what before was only fevered fiction is raw and immediate." I'll stop if you ask me to," he adds."Surely not when I've been so wicked," Emily replies huskily. The scene is set, and his hard palm strikes her bottom repeatedly as Michael methodically and unhurriedly continues, Emily's body responding animatedly to the burning sensation gradually suffusing her derriere."Keep still," he commands as she squirms in a futile attempt to dissipate the smart.Eventually, Emily has no idea how long, five minutes, or an eternity, Michael ceases her chastisement. Both are breathing heavily now, albeit for different reasons. He slides a hand up her inner thigh and under her knickers."Good girl," Michael whispers, pushing an exploratory digit into Emily's sopping sex. She shuts her eyes and moves against his fingers, Emily is needy, alas, her evident excitement is unrequited. Taking her by the shoulders, Michael turns the shaken young woman to face the wall."Make yourself respectable," he instructs in a tone countenancing no dissent, "don't move until I've left, no rubbing your bottom, or anywhere else. I'll let myself out," he kisses the top of her head, "and be back soon to do one final bit piece of research, don't miss me too much."And then he's gone; taken Emily to the edge and abandoned her unsatisfied. Which, thinks Emily, bottom glowing fiercely, is truly sadistic. Simmering with sexual awakening, she's no intention of being denied. Walking stiffly towards her chair Emily sits, wincing as her tender buttocks contact with the seat. Legs spread and eyes closed she pushes a hand down the front of her panties and addresses her pent-up frustration with flying fingers, and soon has a shattering orgasm.On Monday morning, after a weekend mentally replaying this momentous encounter, and multiple flouting of Michael's embargo on masturbation, Emily walks into work full of hope for what the new week may bring. Inwardly more confident, her outward appearance has also altered. She's taken more care with makeup, mascara and her favorite cherry red lipstick. Does her best not to tug down her hem at every step. Emily hasn't previously worn such a short skirt and worries people may notice she's wearing stockings. Once at work, it's business as usual, albeit with some appreciative glances from borrowers, being desired is an unfamiliar but welcome ego boost. Emboldened, Emily experiments with undoing the second button of her blouse.She can't conceal her unhappiness when Michael fails to arrive and becomes increasingly despondent when he doesn't turn up on Tuesday and Wednesday either. By Thursday she's almost lost hope. Turning to the erotica collection for comfort a photograph falls from between the pages of a book on 'Le Vice Anglaise'. Emily looks aghast, Michael! But it can't be, the date scribbled on the back is 1936, does her dom have a doppelganger? All too much of a conundrum to deal with in her overwrought state, Emily locks up early and heads disconsolately home.On Friday she settles onto her stool and re-opens the same book. Was Michael ever really here, she wonders? Could this have been some sort of hallucination, an epic instance of self-delusion? Of course not, get real, examine the facts, she inwardly chides. Consider the evidence of two days of sitting gingerly, the finger marks on your sore buttocks visible in the mirror. She was spanked alright, the pertinent question being whether she will see Michael again, let alone reach the sexual conclusion so ardently desired. Not being clairvoyant, Emily doesn't have a clue about either outcome, for now, she tells herself sternly, you'd better get on with some work. Mentally listing the day's mundane tasks Emily doesn't notice a familiar figure quietly enter the building until he's immediately adjacent. Caught unawares her incipient shout of shock is stifled by his hand."I'll remove it from your mouth," his voice whispers, "if you promise not to scream, understood?" Emily remains frozen, struggling to get to grips with her predicament, then nods assent."Where did you appear from?" she enquires in a small voice."Not important right now," he shushes."Your picture; " She points at the faded sepia print on the table."My father," he laughs, "chip off the old block, aren't I? Long gone, of course, he put up the money to establish the erotica collection you've so much enjoyed." Helping the shaken young woman to her feet he moves Emily to face a bookcase."Just relax," he says calmly, trailing a hand teasingly up and down the back of her thighs."Relax," she tenses at the suggestion, "when I don't know what you intend to do.""I think you can hazard a pretty accurate prediction," he teases."I'm quite sure you're planning to punish me again," says Emily shivering with anticipation at the thought, "what might occur afterwards is what's preoccupying me.""What do you hope happens?" he enquires, lips brushing the nape of her neck."I think you can make a very good guess," Emily replies cheekily.Right now, she can't think of anything she wouldn't let him do, Emily has read many salacious books and has a vivid imagination."I'm enjoying your new look," says Michael appreciatively, "let's explore beneath; " He unbuttons her blouse to the waist, frees her boobs and rolls each erect nipple in turn between finger and thumb. In response, Emily kisses him hard on the mouth, her acquiescence clearly in no doubt. His other hand slips between her thighs and encounters wetness between them. Emily moans at this touch, yearning to be penetrated by the hard cock she can feel bulging through his trousers and pressing against her thigh."You'll endure a harsher correction this time," he murmurs, bending Emily across the desk while removing his belt."The door", she gestures urgently.He shrugs off her concern. "We'll just have to take the chance; I find a little jeopardy adds a frisson of excitement." Wrestling up the short, tight skirt exposes the soft curves of Emily's hips and beautiful bottom; Michael monetarily enjoys the sight, and then pulls her knickers down and off."Someone wants to be fucked pretty badly," he observes, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glimpses her damp, pouting slit. With no warning he straps Emily, hard and fast, leaving blazing bands of hurt across both cheeks and down to her stocking tops. She yelps, groans and stamps her feet, nevertheless thrusting out her buttocks to meet each of the worn leather's cruel kisses. A further dozen overlapping strokes sear across her fiery red behind until Emily thinks she can't possibly endure further chastisement."Hurts," she whimpers, tears in her eyes, although the perfect pain only serves to stoke a fire of arousal down below. Aware of her limits Michael runs his hands along the insides of Emily's legs and pulls her knees apart, leaving her open and exposed. His tongue repeatedly explores the length of her labia, right up to the nub of her clit, building each caress into a rhythmic repetition. Emily feels an orgasm inexorably approaching, her breathing becomes fast and uneven."Fuck you're tight," he observes crudely, sliding a finger into Emily's inviting pink cunny and then positioning his erection at her slick entrance."Stop teasing and do it hard!" she screams, last vestiges of dignity and reserve surrendered. Lewdly Emily pushes back her hips, anxious to have him inside her. Equally caught up in the intensity of the moment, Michael fills the lusty librarian with the cock she craves. All inhibitions abandoned, Emily feels the rhythm of his thrusts increasing, her pussy spasms and takes them both to an inevitable sexual crescendo. They lay silent for a moment before Michael chivalrously passes Emily a large linen handkerchief to mop the come leaking onto her nylon-clad thighs."I think my poor bottom has suffered quite enough for one day," she whispers sensually, "how about you take me home to your place and fuck me again, slowly and gently?""How about we take one of the books from the special collection to provide us with inspiration?" he replies."Oh, I think I've already done quite enough research," Emily responds with a giggle."Then let's grab a bottle of wine and see if we can't put theory into practice," agrees Michael.Cut to a year later, doctorate earned; Emily has been promoted to take charge of the main university library. There's a new young woman librarian at the Institute, still on probation and requiring guidance. Emily considers herself a firm but fair manager and has kindly offered an after-hours tutorial on the special collection. A recently successful MA student, now a research fellow, somewhat older and vastly experienced, may join them;By Select Redux for LiteroticaCleverness is SexyWinning a quiz transformed Alice from swot to hot.By Select ReduxAn exceptionally brainy young woman, Alice has pursued her academic interests to the exclusion of almost everything else in life. There will, she reasons, on the verge of her 23rd birthday, the M A she's strived so hard to attain nearl

If you like your historical fiction rich and immersive, The Lost Boy of Santa Chionia is a must read. Ellery Queen Award-winning and bestselling author Juliet Grames, creates a story set in the 1960's in an isolated village in Calabria. American Francesca Loftfield arrives in town to establish a nursery school. Customs collide and Francesca finds not everyone welcomes the influence of a young outsider. When human remains are discovered, Francesca is drawn in and secrets from the past are exposed. Deftly plotted with a great sense of place and time. You'll feel the cobblestone paths under your feet as the story unfolds in this twisty tale. In conversation with James L'Etoile for Authors on the Air.

Welcome to another exciting episode of the Win Make Give Podcast, hosted by Chad Hyams. This episode dives deep into revolutionary customer engagement strategies with Mark Stern, the mastermind behind Custom Box Agency. Drawing on his journey from a corporate high-flyer to an innovative entrepreneur, Stern shares how physical box experiences are redefining customer interactions across various industries. Deftly balancing humor, insights, and real-world applications, this episode is a must-listen for anyone eager to enhance their business's customer journey strategy. Mark Stern explains the core concept behind his creation: leveraging tangible, personalized box experiences to enhance customer acquisition, delivery, and retention—culminating in better brand loyalty and client engagement. Chad and Mark unpack the intricacies of building such experiences, and Mark shares key strategies from his "Activate Deck," providing actionable insights for leaders, salespeople, and entrepreneurs. Whether for customer acquisition or employee retention, Mark highlights how defining success and gamifying experiences can transform business dynamics and magnify outcomes. Connect with Mark Mark Stern's Company: Custom Box Agency Mark Stern's Social Media: Follow Mark R. Stern on LinkedIn or Facebook ---------- Connect with the hosts:     •    Ben Kinney: https://www.BenKinney.com/     •    Bob Stewart: https://www.linkedin.com/in/activebob     •    Chad Hyams: https://ChadHyams.com/     •    Book one of our co-hosts for your next event: https://WinMakeGive.com/speakers/ More ways to connect:      •    Join our Facebook group at www.facebook.com/groups/winmakegive     •     Sign up for our weekly newsletter: https://WinMakeGive.com/sign-up     •     Explore the Win Make Give Podcast Network: https://WinMakeGive.com/ Part of the Win Make Give Podcast Network

VPOTUS CANDIDATE TIM WALZ HAS OPINED THAT SOCIALISM IS "NEIGHBORLINESS."  1/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) 1967 Mao https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?

VPOTUS CANDIDATE TIM WALZ HAS OPINED THAT SOCIALISM IS "NEIGHBORLINESS." 2/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) May 24, 1951 US casualty Korean https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?

VPOTUS CANDIDATE TIM WALZ HAS OPINED THAT SOCIALISM IS "NEIGHBORLINESS." 4/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) 1958 Kim Il Sung  in Beijing https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?

VPOTUS CANDIDATE TIM WALZ HAS OPINED THAT SOCIALISM IS "NEIGHBORLINESS." 5/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) 1966 Red Guard https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?

VPOTUS CANDIDATE TIM WALZ HAS OPINED THAT SOCIALISM IS "NEIGHBORLINESS." 6/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) 1966 Red Guard https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?

VPOTUS CANDIDATE TIM WALZ HAS OPINED THAT SOCIALISM IS "NEIGHBORLINESS." /78: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) 1966 Red Guard https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?

VPOTUS CANDIDATE TIM WALZ HAS OPINED THAT SOCIALISM IS "NEIGHBORLINESS." 8/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) 1971 PRC https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?

VPOTUS CANDIDATE TIM WALZ HAS OPINED THAT SOCIALISM IS "NEIGHBORLINESS." 3/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution  by  Tania Branigan  (Author) 1955 Kim Il Sung in China https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?

How will you thrive in commercial investing amidst a changing real estate market and economic condition?Let's welcome Dennis Cisterna III in this week's episode, sharing his journey from the residential to the commercial side of the business! Dennis shares his perspectives on the current situation of the housing and real estate market, the advantages of investing in retail, office, and industrial, and how powerful the fund model is!Key Points & Relevant TopicsDennis' focus on single-tenant long-term net leases and commercial real estate in generalThe current condition of the economy, housing market, and interest ratesWhat markets and assets investors should be focusing on in the current market situationDennis' insights on investing in office buildings, retail space,s and industrial and their opportunitiesBenefits of having a fund model for investors and operatorsThings investors should be looking for in a fund modelHold period and exit strategies in a fund modelResources & LinksApartment Syndication Due Diligence Checklist for Passive InvestorAbout Dennis Cisterna IIIOne of the most well-known executives in the real estate investment sector, Dennis Cisterna guides the firm's investment strategy and growth. Relying on his keen sense of market dynamics, he has built a reputation for being a first-mover in many market niches. Over his 25-year career, he has completed nearly $4 billion worth of real estate transactions across the U.S. and Europe. Deftly moving between commercial and residential investments, Dennis is also the founder of Guardian Residential, where he was at the forefront of the SFR build-to-rent sector in his partnership with Lafayette Real Estate and the Carlyle Group. He previously served as the CEO of Investability Solutions, a vertically integrated service provider to institutional real estate investors. Prior to that, Dennis served as Managing Director of FirstKey Lending, a portfolio company of Cerberus Capital Management. Over his 20-year career, Dennis has held a wide variety of management positions within the real estate investment and development sectors including key roles at notable firms such as Johnson Capital, Lennar, and Toll Brothers. He has served as a member of NAIOP, ICSC, the National Rental Home Council, ULI, the National Association of Home Builders, and the National Multi-Housing Council. A frequent speaker at economic and real estate conferences across the nation, Dennis has given his investment insights to tens of thousands of investors over the past several years and is regularly cited in the media as one of the foremost real estate experts in the United States. He has served as a monthly contributor for U.S. News & World Report and Builder & Developer and previously hosted The Investability Podcast. He has received numerous industry awards including being named a Rising Star in HousingWire and a Net Lease Influencer by Real Estate Forum. He is a Licensed Real Estate Broker in California and has a B.A. in Political Science from San Diego State University. Get in Touch with DennisWebsite: https://www.sentineloppfund.com/  / https://sentinelnetlease.com/ To Connect With UsPlease visit our website www.bonavestcapital.com and click here to leave a rating and written review!

To the island of Jeju, we look today as the latest offering on Oslated comes in the form of Vidění. True to form, the Italian DJ, and producer (now Barcelona based) inhabits the deeper realms of electronica, as the LP seamlessly glides through many a mood and genre. Acting more like a spiritual successor to a prior release on Shaded Explorations, The Land Of Clouds expands a great deal more on the slower, rhythmic side of things, through wonderful textures, pads, and a great sense of arrangement. ‘Wanderers Of The Sky' acts as a proper response to the growing tension of prior tracks. Energy was building, building, building, now the crescendo has been reached, the hill climbed, and back down we must go. The subtle drone-like melodies, guide the listener through the emotional come down gently. Deftly complimented by the spiraling synths and a steady percussive line, breakish in nature. All of which ease the landing into the beatless ending of the release. The Land Of Clouds will be released via Oslated, on the 29th of July. @videni @oslated Follow us on social media: @itsdelayed linktr.ee/delayed www.itsdelayed.com www.facebook.com/itsdelayed www.instagram.com/_____delayed www.youtube.com/@_____delayed

Royal Insider Deep Crown tells us, “These solemn D-Day commemorations represent one of the Royal Family's most critical functions - honoring the immense sacrifices that safeguarded Britain's freedom while deftly leveraging such symbolism to cement the monarchy's international prestige. Make no mistake, as bureaucratic and archaic as the trappings of royalty may seem, these public displays of reverence and empathy are masterclasses in fortifying the Crown's political capital on a global stage.You witnessed the consummate professional showcasing their talents - the Monarchs' deftly projected solemnity intersecting with the subtlest hints of relatable human emotion. The glistening tears, the quavering voices...Camilla and Charles, William's poignant tributes - these are not mere platitudes but masterworks of a rejuvenated House of Windsor reasserting its indispensable role as the empathetic avatar of British identity and values.Let the skeptics scoff at such grandiose spectacles as wasteful pageantry. For the Royals, commanding the global narrative through symbolic resonance is not just a luxury but an existential imperative. Deftly capitalizing on momentous commemorations to reinvigorate their relevance and solidify their future primacy as ambassadors for Britain's interests - this is the Firm's true genius. Get this and many other shows without commercials! Get our shows on any player you love. For Apple users, hit the banner on your app. For Spotify or other players, visit caloroga.supportingcast.fm. Subscribe now for exclusive shows like 'Palace Intrigue,' 'Daily Comedy News,' and '5 Good News Stories.' Plans start at $4.99 per month, or save 20% with a yearly plan at $49.99. Go to caloroga.supportingcast.fm. Join today and support the show! See the full list of shows and sign up for our newsletter for more great news from Caloroga Shark Media.

XI IS THE RED GUARD PLUS TIKTOK: 4/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 Red Guards

XI IS THE RED GUARD PLUS TIKTOK: 6/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966

XI IS THE RED GUARD PLUS TIKTOK: 8/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 Cultural Revolution: the torturers

XI IS THE RED GUARD PLUS TIKTOK: 7/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966

XI IS THE RED GUARD PLUS TIKTOK: 2/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 Cultural Revolution

XI IS THE RED GUARD PLUS TIKTOK: 5/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 Red Guards

XI IS THE RED GUARD PLUS TIKTOK: 3/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 Cultural Revolution

Andy de la Tour stars in a new drama by Ian Billings about the politically volatile period that saw the rise of the alternative comedy movement.Based on true events, the story follows the fate of fictionalised comedy duo, Erica and Ernie, an anarchic, free-form homage to Morecambe and Wise, who are about to make their performance debut.Comedy Club ….. Andy de la Tour Ernie ….. James McNicholas Erica ….. Emma Sidi Tommy ….. Don Gilet Ernie's mum ….. Rhiannon Neads Ronnie Williams ….. Samuel James Chicken Shop Owner ….. Tyler Cameron Mr Melter ….. Zachary Lowe-McAlley Anthony ….. Josh Bryant-Jones Marxist Juggler ….. Ian Billings Welsh Gwen ….. Carys Eleri TV Presenter ….. Rosie MellettPiano and trumpet played by Peter RingroseDirected by Gemma JenkinsAndy de la Tour, one of the original performers at The Comedy Store, acts as a guide through this chaotic world.Deftly blended into the drama are the archived voices of: Eddie Izzard, Arthur Smith, Ben Elton, Ade Edmundson, Arnold Brown, Alexei Sayle, Harry Enfield, Helen Lederer, Cliff Shaw, Tony Allen, Pauline Melville, Jenny Éclair, John Dowie, Jo Brand, Dawn French, Jennifer Saunders, Nigel Planer and Rik Mayall.This drama was originally broadcast on BBC Radio 4.

4/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution Hardcover – May 9, 2023 by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 CULURAL REVOLUTION

6/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution Hardcover – May 9, 2023 by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?1966

5/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution Hardcover – May 9, 2023 by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 CULTURAL REVOLUTION

7/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution Hardcover – May 9, 2023 by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1968 RED GUARDS

3/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution Hardcover – May 9, 2023 by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1966 CHINA

2/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution Hardcover – May 9, 2023 by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?1966 CULTURAL REVOLUTION

1/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution Hardcover – May 9, 2023 by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over?1966 MAO AND THE RED GUARDS

8/8: Red Memory: The Afterlives of China's Cultural Revolution Hardcover – May 9, 2023 by  Tania Branigan  (Author) https://www.amazon.com/Red-Memory-Afterlives-Cultural-Revolution/dp/1324051957 Red Memory uncovers forty years of silence through the stories of individuals who lived through the madness. Deftly exploring how this era defined a generation and continues to impact China today, Branigan asks: What happens to a society when you can no longer trust those closest to you? What happens to the present when the past is buried, exploited, or redrawn? And how do you live with yourself when the worst is over? 1967